House Colours
by Ayakaishi Fei
Summary: An angry Harry Potter goes to Draco for relief... he muses over what he is becoming, but he does nothing to stop his transformation. Slash. DMHP


Title: House Colours  
  
Author: Ayakaishi Fei  
  
Email: Ken_Dai_Love@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Warnings: This fic contains language, and slash, meaning two hot guys (in this case Draco and Harry) going down on each other, if that disturbs you; then you're a sick person! I bet you think heterosexuals are completely normal too! (*giggles* I'm kidding).  
  
Category: Romance, Humour, Fluff. Weirdness. Angst.  
  
Summary: A fluffy idea about Harry in green and silver (slytherin house colours) which somehow developed into a slashy Harry/Draco ficlet.  
  
Disclaimer: And lo, an angel of the Lord appeared to a lowly fangirl and bid her write Ron/Hermione fanfiction (including a matrimonial ceremony, and abstinence prior to marriage). The fangirl retorted disgustedly and with great imagination, but indicated that she would write Harry/Draco. The angel resigned himself to her fall from grace, and the fangirl got on with writing fanfiction.  
  
Meaning that she doesn't own Harry Potter, but would risk Eternal Damnation to see him get it on with the talented Mr Malfoy.  
  
--  
  
It boiled and seethed just beneath the surface of his skin, constantly. He sometimes wondered if the pressure would make him explode - he was always so angry, even when he was happy, he was angry.  
  
He wanted everyone to hurt, like he'd been hurt, but at the same time the Harry that he had been pleaded, begged him to spare the innocents of the world - whispered that one day the pain would be over, that one day he would sacrifice himself and it would all be over.  
  
But in the meantime... it seethed.  
  
The urge to lash out was almost unbearable - that was how it had started. He had taken up Draco's offer on a whim, because he needed to be with someone who he wasn't afraid to hate, with someone who wasn't afraid to hate him back.  
  
Somewhere along the way the boundaries between love and hate started to blur...  
  
--  
  
"Why do I even bother?" Harry mused softly, an undertone of malice in his voice, his green eyes dark with emotion - with that ever-present anger - behind his black-rimmed glasses, "It's not like anything I do has ever made the slightest bit of difference."  
  
"Stop fucking whining, brat," Draco stuffed the dragon-hide glove he'd just tugged off into the black haired boys mouth, before leaning his head back against the cold stone wall. Harry's anger never had been able to touch him. Harry could lash out without losing something infinitely precious. He could be angry without it generating concern, but only when he was with Draco.  
  
Harry pulled the glove out, his amusement tinged with the loathing he felt for the unfair world, "I'm not *whining*... well okay, maybe I am, but I deserve to whine. Everybody I love dies."  
  
"Oh boo-fucking-hoo." Draco's sarcasm was abrasive, but it ignited both the anger and the affection he always felt when he was around the blond, "Tell someone who cares brat - oh that's right, you've pushed everyone else away."  
  
Draco smirked at the slight Gryffindor, pulling a bottle of remarkably potent Trollish Rum out of his robes with a flourish.  
  
Harry watched him silently as he opened the bottle and took a swig, before snatching the bottle to copy the blond's example. The alcohol could dim everything, the hate, the anger, and the lust for destruction. He came up spluttering in disgust, "This is *foul*."  
  
Draco shrugged, his gaze fixed on the top of Harry's tousled black head, "It grows on you... You know, you never did tell me... what made you decide to take me up on my offer brat?"  
  
"Ron. Hermione. Everyone. I'm sick of the pity. I'm sick of everyone being so goddamned optimistic. I'm fucking sick of being treated like I'm going to break, and I know you'll never treat me like that." Harry's anger was palpable, despite the fact that the causes he attributed it to did not warrant the degree of anger he felt.  
  
"...I'm like... dial-an-abusive-bitch?" Draco questioned, a smirk twisting his lips upwards sharply. The anger Harry felt was familiar to him - the clash of anger, lust, hatred had been necessary ingredients in every relationship he'd ever been in.  
  
"Don't know. Don't care," Harry chugged down another swig of Draco's rum. It burnt the back of his throat, with it's spicy-sweet taste. Every sip dulled the pain just a little bit more.  
  
"What do you want Potter?" Draco stole the drink back, and let the spiced liquid slide down his throat before turning to Harry and tilting the other boy's head up so that he could stare at the flushed boy without making himself uncomfortable.  
  
Harry leant forward, and ran his tongue along Draco's lips, capturing the remnants of the drink, "What do you think?"  
  
Draco pushed the boy away. "I think you're trying to find a way to forget whatever it is that you're stressing over."  
  
Harry shrugged, "You're right at that. Gimme another drink bitch."  
  
Draco passed the rum obligingly, "I've been thinking..."  
  
"Well that's always dangerous," Harry snorted, his habitual undertone of anger disappearing beneath the haze of alcohol, "For people like you."  
  
Draco pinched him, viciously, causing him to splutter, even as the pain sent sparks of pleasure through his body. "I'm serious. Why didn't you ever accept my offer of friendship?"  
  
Harry batted his eyelids, his inhibitions disappearing along with the seething anger which ate at him from the inside out, "I knew you only wanted me for the sex - Ron wanted me for the fame, it seemed the safer option."  
  
Draco snorted, "And people say I'm conceited."  
  
"You are," Harry assured him, taking a fifth deep swig of the alcohol and passing it back to Draco, who copied eagerly.  
  
"You know I hate you, right?" Draco whispered softly, reassuringly, "I mean, if you were dying, and I was the only one who could save you - I wouldn't."  
  
Harry chuckled, dull lust overtaking dull anger, for a single moment, "I know. You're very fuckable Mr. Malfoy."  
  
Draco gazed at Harry slightly bemused, "Not that it isn't true of course, but where did *that* come from?"  
  
Harry shrugged, "Just felt like saying it. I still hate you, of course, but I think I'd fuck you in an instant."  
  
"Oh." Draco let his left hand fall down to caress Harry's thigh absently, "I'm a good distraction then?"  
  
"Better than Ron." Harry fell silent for a few minutes, then spoke up again, "You know, when I first came to Hogwarts, I almost got sorted into Slytherin. D'you think things would be different if I had?"  
  
"Dunno. Although... I do think you'd make a lovely Slytherin, Potter." Draco smirked somewhat drunkenly, and with the air of one bestowing a very serious compliment he absently ran his long pale fingers through Harry's unruly hair, "All big green eyes and coal black tresses. The Slytherin colours would look simply delicious on you."  
  
Harry blinked languorously as he considered Draco's words; they did make sense in his mildly intoxicated state, without the anger or the hatred to distract him, he could enjoy Draco's company. For just a moment, he could enjoy his detachment from the world.  
  
"Let me guess, the sorting hat is all an elaborate ploy, and the teachers really sort the students by deciding which house colours would flatter them the most."  
  
Draco shrugged, "Mostly, but it's obvious in your case someone made a mistake. You'd look absolutely delectable in green and silver."  
  
Harry leant back lazily against the wall next to Draco, and wondered, absently, when exactly he'd become so relaxed in the presence of Slytherin's resident ice prince. Was it only the alcohol? But then he'd come here with no ulterior motive, for the simple reason that he couldn't stand to be around the people he loved. He wanted to hurt people - and it scared him half to death. Perhaps this was how Tom - Voldemort - had started out?  
  
He let his hand caress Draco's thigh distractingly, best not to think about his urges. Hurting Draco was safe. Hell, even fucking Draco would be safe. No feelings. He didn't care about the blond, so it was okay to use him as an outlet, as he couldn't use everyone else. Draco was safe.  
  
"Oi, don't you dare fall asleep on me Potter, I might get an obscene tattoo tattooed across your forehead."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow tiredly, bantering back easily, "And ruin my good looks?"  
  
"What good looks?" Draco prodded the boy; "Just because I think you'd look appealing in my house colours doesn't mean I find you attractive. Really Potter."  
  
Harry let his eyelashes flutter closed as his head drooped to rest on Draco's shoulder, the alcohol finally achieving its desired result. "Don't lie Malfoy, you think I'm gorgeous, and you know it. One day you and I will have sex... and it will be the best day of your life... I think..."  
  
Draco stared down at the boy who'd practically fallen asleep in his lap and sighed, caught between flattered, amused, and aroused. Harry was right about one thing: he had to admit that the other boy was gorgeous. Drawing upon his dignity as much as possibly, he made a passable attempt at the Malfoy haughtiness, "You'll pay for this when you wake up Potter."  
  
Harry made a snuffling half snore-half murmur and snuggled closer to Draco who wrapped his arms around the boy to shift him to a more comfortable position before he completely passed out from the alcohol. Honestly, Gryffindors these days, Draco thought exasperatedly, far too much affection in his mental voice, before he succumbed to the urge to close his own eyes, his own lips brushing the crown of Harry's head before he fell asleep  
  
--  
  
"You know they say love is blind," Draco observed wistfully.  
  
"I don't love you. You don't love me. You promised. Nothing but this - just you - just me - no us - no love - no affection - no lies - just pain and relief." Harry's words were sharp, as if they could ward off the other boy's words.  
  
"Too late," Draco smiled ironically, "If you want to hurt me, Harry Potter, do it now. You'll never get a better chance than this. I've fallen in love with you, because all my life I've wanted to be needed. You needed to hurt me Harry, so go ahead."  
  
Harry stood, silent, and in a single graceful movement flung the bottle of alcohol he and Draco had been sharing against the far wall, "It's over Draco. I'll find someone else, or I'll keep it inside. For what it's worth, thank you. For not loving me at the beginning - for hating me like I tried to hate myself. It meant a lot to me."  
  
Draco watched Harry walk away without saying a word. Harry had taken his advice - nothing else he could have done could possibly have been so painful.  
  
End.  
  
Damn - this started out being fluff - don't ask me when it changed - I think it was reading the 5th book, I tried to make Harry angry, like he is in the book.  
  
Review please? I risked Eternal Damnation to write this - surely that deserves at least one review...? 


End file.
